cheesycats: (Giles/Wes bookish katekat1010)
[personal profile] cheesycats
My Drunken!Giles fic, for [ profile] twilightofmagic. This story got a bit silly, but that's just the way it went. You get a bonus drunk Wesley and I hope you don't mind the gratuitous Doctor Who references. I couldn't help myself! Many thanks to [ profile] petzipellepingo for the beta.

Title: It's Never Too Late
Requestor: [ profile] twilightofmagic
Wants: Wesley, a mechano set, a surprising revelation
Doesn't want: Het, humiliation (unless it's humorous)
Pairing: Giles/Wesley
Word Count: 1300+
Rating: PG

During afternoon tea one day in early December, Giles and Wesley were discussing the upcoming Christmas Eve party at Buffy’s house. They then stumbled on to the topic of childhood Christmas gifts they had always wanted but never received.

“You wanted a what?” Giles asked.

“A toy Dalek. You know, the pepper pot villains from Doctor Who? You’ve seen Doctor Who, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes, but I never thought you’d have been into it.”

“Luckily for me, one of Father’s club meetings was on Saturday at the same time as the show, so I was able to watch it without fear of censure. I was never brave enough to ask for any item related to it, though. What was it you always wanted?” Wesley asked.

“A Meccano set.”

Wesley looked surprised. “You never had a Meccano set? I thought they were standard equipment in every boy’s toy box. Even my father allowed me that. He said it would sharpen my mechanical skills and manual dexterity.”

“Did it?”

Wesley looked into his teacup sheepishly. “Well, no. I never was terribly interested in them. I would rather have had fanciful adventure novels or…”


Wesley smiled. “Yes.”

“I’m not sure why I never received a set. Perhaps my parents thought they were too expensive or never believed one would hold my interest for very long, I don’t know. Still…” Giles sighed. “Oh well. Bit too late for that sort of nonsense now.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Wesley agreed sadly, and the topic was dropped for another.


Late into the night on Christmas Eve…

“She’s… she’s a wonnerful woman.” Wesley slurred as they approached Giles’s door.

“Yes. She most certainly is. Buffy couldn’t—hic!—oh, pardon. Buffy couldn’t have asked for a better mother.” Giles replied as he fumbled for his key.

Joyce had tried to get the two rather inebriated men to take a cab home from her party, but Giles and Wesley insisted on walking in the crisp December air.

Wesley leaned on Giles’s shoulder as Giles finally got the key in the lock. “Shouldn’t we tell Buffy she can go home now?” Wesley whispered.

Giles looked back at the slayer, whose fuzzy knit cap was just visible over the top of a nearby shrub. He giggled. “Yes, I think so. Go home, Buffy!”

Buffy stepped into full view. “So much for being stealthy. It’s a good thing Mom insisted I follow you home. You two could have been the answer to a vampire’s Christmas wish, you know. Next year I’ll make sure Spike stays away from the eggnog with his high octane whiskey. Well, next year I’ll make sure Spike just stays away.”

Giles waved her off. “Nonsense. We were perfectly capable-able of defending ourselves. Now go home and have a very Merry Christmas. Tha’s an order, young lady.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and bid them the same as she turned toward home.

The two men walked into the flat and Giles closed the door. He looked at Wesley. “Hold on a tic,” he said. “You don’t live here. Do you?”

Wesley shook his head sadly. “No. I don’t.” Then he grinned slyly and motioned for Giles to come closer. Giles did.

“But, I stashed your Christmas present here. I want to give it to you now.” Wesley whispered.

Giles beamed. “Ooh, yes, please. And, and I’ll give you yours.” He clumped upstairs to his bedroom. “Oh, I do hope you’ll like it,” he hollered down the stairs.

While Giles was upstairs, Wesley opened the weapons chest behind the sofa and fished out a large, elegantly wrapped box.

Giles came downstairs with an equally large festively wrapped package.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment until Giles finally pushed the box toward Wesley. “Open yours first!”

Wesley set his gift to Giles on the table and began to gingerly remove the paper from his own gift until an impatient Giles reached over and ripped it off for him. Wesley opened the box and gasped. “You remembered! Oh!”

The box was full of little painted metal Dalek figures, each one a different color.

“I wasn’t sure which one you’d want so I got them all.” Giles said.

“I…” Wesley’s voice was full of emotion. “Thank you, Rupert. This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve… I don’t know how to…” he cleared his throat. “B-b-but go on, open yours now.”

Giles picked up his gift and made quick work of the paper. He too was awestruck by what he found.

“I thought I had one packed away at home that I’d never opened. I phoned my mother and asked her to send it to me if she could find it. And she did.” Wesley explained.

Giles ran a hand almost reverently over the large letters that spelled out Meccano on the front of the box. The color-printed graphics had barely faded over the years. As Wesley had mentioned, the box was still sealed shut. “Oh, Wesley. It’s, it’s marvelous! A number ten set! I never could have dreamed of owning something this wonderful as a child and now…”

Wesley smiled and choked back a sob. “Happy Christmas, Rupert.”

Giles pulled him into a tight embrace. “A very Happy Christmas indeed, Wesley.”

“So,” Wesley whispered conspiratorially in Giles’s ear. “What do you say to a battle between my Daleks and whatever robotic threat you can piece together with your set, hmm?”

“You’re on!”

They cleared a space on the table to spread out the parts of the set, but after partaking of Giles’s finest bottle of Scotch on top of Spikes’ spiked nog, it soon became clear to even their sloshed minds that the intricate pieces of the Meccano set were no match for their compromised motor skills.

They did manage to have one battle between Wesley’s black Dalek and Giles’s clumsily rendered attempt at a Cyberman, which ended in the pseudo-Cyberman’s head falling off and rolling under the sofa, and the two men collapsing on the floor in fits of giggles.

“EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!” Wesley intoned as he pushed a Dalek across the rug toward Giles.

“INEBRIATE! INEBRIATE!” Giles countered as he pushed the bottle of Scotch toward Wesley. Then the giggling started all over again.

Once they had regained their composures, Giles poured them each another drink.

“It’s a good thing we told Buffy to go home when we did. Can you imagine what she’d think to see us like this? What would her mother say?” Wesley said before taking a sip.

“I slept with Joyce, you know.” Giles blurted out.

Wesley spit Scotch all over one or two Daleks and Giles’s rug.

“You… you what?!” Wesley sputtered as he tried to expel errant whiskey from his lungs.

Giles frowned. “I don’t know why I told you that just now. But yes, I did sleep with her.” He shrugged. “Oh, we both ate some bad magic candy and Joyce is a very attractive woman, and, well, we lost ourselves in the moment.”

“Rupert,” Wesley wheezed. “I, I don’t have any bad magic candy and I’m not an attractive woman, but would you… could you ever consider…”

Giles leaned closer to him. “Oh, Wesley, yes! He cupped Wesley’s face in his hand. “Without magic candy, good or bad, and you are, oh, such an attractive man, and I could really lose myself in the moment with OW! Bugger all! What is--oh,” Giles grimaced as he pulled a large Meccano screw from under his knee and tossed it aside. Wesley started laughing and Giles pulled him in for a kiss.

There was more laughter, interspersed with kisses, until they fell upon each other on the rug, their gifts momentarily forgotten, lost in the moment and in each other. And a very happy Christmas was had by all.


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